Three

Aria stirred and tried to open her eyes. She couldn’t. Her body was not responding to her wishes and it was strangely silent in her head. However, she could feel, and she could hear.

A large warm hand was brushing gently against her hair and her face, and his voice was a deep rumble which echoed in her chest. She was aware that she lay on a soft bed and an even softer pillow.

“How is she, Doctor? Is she badly hurt?” he asked.

Another masculine replied to him, sounding far away.

“She’s okay. She’s a little weak from her first shift, so I passed some glucose fluids into her body. She only fainted out of shock. She’s malnourished though, but she doesn’t look like a rogue.”

“I don’t think so either,” Mystery man replied, “I can feel power on her, but I wonder why she left her pack.”

He was still stroking her hair.

Aria wanted to open her eyes and her mouth and tell him what happened, but she couldn’t. Soon, she fell into a deep but restless sleep.

***

2 days later

“Why is she not opening her eyes? I hope she hasn’t been severely injured,” warned a very angsty female voice.

The same male that was with Aria replied to her.

“I don’t know, sis. The doctor said her body is trying to recover from the shock and keep her wolf under control.

“What color did you say her wolf was again?” the female asked.

“White. She’s a White wolf, Camille.”

Ah, so the girl’s name was Camille. Was she his mate? Aria thought.

“White wolf? That sounds like old legends, Damien,” Camille droned monotonously.

“I guess we’ll know when she wakes up,” Damien said.

Few moments later, Aria felt his large, warm hand interlaced with hers. He sighed heavily.

“If she really is your mate, then you’re a very lucky wolf, bro,” said Camille.

So, Camille was his sis…wait a second. Did she say mate? Aria felt herself panicking and she could not control it. Her heart monitor beeped like crazy, but her body couldn’t move. The only response it gave was her fingers twitching in Damien’s hold.

Then, as soon as it started, it stopped.

Aria could feel herself slipping back under. She struggled to stay afloat, but she couldn’t.

“…she has a panic attack while unconscious…?” That was the last thread of conversation she heard.

***

One week later.

“She still hasn’t woken up? Why?” That was Camille.

Damien sounded exhausted, “I have no idea. The pack doctor is also confused. She’s fully healed. I don’t know why she’s not waking up.”

Even Aria was frustrated. Her eyelids felt like they were cast in cement and covered in lead. She could not open them no matter how hard she tried. Her mouth couldn’t move, and her muscles were not hers to control.

She felt the side of the bed dip, and Damien grabbed her hand. His hand was familiar now. Firm with calluses and long fingers that completely swallowed hers. She enjoyed it when he held her hand.

Then she felt soft lips kissing the back of her hand.

“Please wake up. I don’t even know your name,” he pleaded.

“Wake up, Aria,” a voice said in her head.

It was soft, but authoritative, and it sounded very familiar, but it was still unknown. A calm energy flowed through her body, radiating from her chest outwards. It spread to her legs, and she wiggled her toes in uncertainty.

They wiggled. It continued, and she felt it in her arms down to her finger tips, her face, her scalp, her hair…everywhere.

Her body felt like hers again.

She flexed her hand around Damien’s and she heard him gasp. The corner of her lips tilted upwards, and her eyes finally fluttered open. She unstuck her tongue from the roof of her mouth and licked her lips.

“You’re awake. Finally,” Damien said, smiling in relief.

At the food of the bed where Camille stood, she also smiled.

“You don’t know how long we’ve been waiting, especially my brother. He keeps vigil by your bedside everyday and he had abandoned his Alpha duties,” she teased good-naturedly.

Her voice was raspy as she tried to talk, “I…I’m sorry for the delay…I caused you,” she apologized.

“You don’t need to apologize, it’s not your fault,” Damien said. His brows drew together in a puzzled form.

Suddenly, Camille moved closer to them and elbowed her brother away, “You don’t even know how to do anything,” she muttered.

There was a paper cup on the nightstand filled with water. Camille raised it to her lips, and Aria gently sipped cool water from it. Her mouth was moistened and her voice was less raspy.

“Thank you, Camille,” she said.

“How do you know my name?” Camille asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I could hear you talking,” she replied, “He’s Damien, right?” She pointed at the silent, brooding man standing a few feet away from the bed.

“That’s right. What’s your name?”

“Aria Jean He…” she wanted to say Hendrix, then she remembered that she had been cast out of the pack and was no more a Hendrix, legally, “Aria Jean. That’s my name.”

Damien lifted Camille off the bed by the waist. She huffed when she placed her down.

Then he sat beside Aria on the bed, “Aria. What would you like to eat? You’ve been unconscious for a week. You must be starving.”

As if on cue, her stomach rumbled loudly. Camille and Aria made eye contact and they burst into a flurry of giggles.

***

Two weeks later

Aria was in the kitchen of the packhouse, putting food and bottles of water into a random knapsack that she found. She was dressed in the borrowed clothes of Camille, and her hair was up in a ponytail.

She had to leave. She had mooched off these people for long enough. They took her in, cared for her, fed her and clothed her until she was healthy again. It’s been three weeks! She had to leave, so that they won’t be accused of housing a rogue, because that’s what she was.

She left a note on the nightstand of the bed they assigned to her, explaining everything. Aria sighed and opened the door, allowing the cool autumn breeze to enter. Then, a hand slammed the door close behind her and she whipped around to see Damien’s face. It showed shock and anger and…hurt?

He held the Post-It note in his hand, “You can’t leave. What do you mean you’re leaving? You can’t. You’re my mate!”